Paint It Black
by southsidesister
Summary: She'd rather live with the fact that he was still alive and hating her, than with him dead. Follows the story of House and Stacy from the moment he was admitted to the hospital for pain in his leg. Please read and review!
1. Early August, 1999

Sometimes life throws you lemons, so you make some lemonade. But what do you do when you run out of sugar?

***

Chapter 1

Stacy Hamilton was happy. At 33, she had landed a great job as an attorney at a medium sized law firm and a few years back she had met a man. Actually, she had shot him in a game of paintball. Her firm had set up it up one afternoon with a hospital they had just started working for. The idea was to informally strengthen the ties between both parties and build a mutual trust. Stacy wasn't one for violent games, but the minute the doctor she had shot went down and she rushed over to see if he was alright, she changed her mind.

"Damn it, woman! Are you trying to get me killed?" The actual shot hadn't taken him down, but because it had been unexpected, the doctor was caught off guard and had tripped. But she was glad he had, because the minute her hazel coloured eyes met his blue ones, she knew she was in trouble.

3 weeks later, she moved in with him.

Dr. Gregory House was everything she had ever looked for in a man. Smart, handsome, talented, funny. He was the head of the Department of Diagnostics at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and was referred to as one of the best in his field. His often blunt and cold way in dealing with patients and people in general also gave him a reputation of being an ass.

Greg was definitely not your average doctor and Stacy soon realised this was what she found to be most attractive about him. That and his incredibly blue eyes and deep voice. He also had a way of bringing out the best and worst in her. She knew Greg was the man for her, but his behaviour could aggravate her to the point where she would nearly lose it. Most often, she would just slap his arm or shoulder out of frustration, something she had never felt the need for before. He just knew how to rub her the wrong way, sometimes. But he also knew how to make it up to her, and he always did.

About a year ago, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of Medicine at Princeton Plainsboro and a good friend of Greg and Stacy's, had offered Stacy a job as a consultant. Stacy would be working for the hospital instead of the law firm and she would be visiting other hospitals in the area and work together with the other attorneys on some of the tougher cases. This meant Stacy would sometimes be working at the same hospital as Greg, so naturally she wasn't sure if she wanted that, knowing this could put a strain on their relationship. But after having discussed it with Greg, they agreed that they were both professionals and they would try to minimize their interaction. This didn't need to be a problem. In fact, they were both excited about it.

***

Stacy really was happy and everything was working out well, until one afternoon in March.

Greg had taken Stacy for a game of golf. It had been a favourite pastime of his and even though she didn't really care for the sport, she was happy to spend the day with him. Both their jobs were so demanding that they would only really see each other late at night and early in the morning, despite the fact they were both working for the same hospital. Even the weekends weren't a sure thing, because of the nature of Greg's specialty he was almost always on call. And calls in the middle of the night were not uncommon.

During the game, Greg had felt a sharp pain in his right leg. A pain so intense and paralyzing, that he had asked Stacy to call an ambulance. Upon arrival at the hospital, the doctors were unable to diagnose him and Greg injected himself with Demerol to kill the pain and he was discharged. But the pain returned, so Greg went back to the hospital.

At first the doctors at Princeton Plainsboro were unable to find anything and Greg was put on antibiotics and bed rest. But soon enough, he had blood in his urine and his urine turned brown. Greg himself diagnosed his pain as a result from muscle death. But the pain had gone untreated for three long days, and the damage had been done. The doctors advised him to amputate the leg, but Greg had insisted on bypass surgery to restore the circulation. The death muscle cells would release cytokines and potassium. If the circulation was restored, the cytokines and potassium would end up back in his bloodstream and they could cause organ failure and cardiac arrest. But Greg would rather take that risk than lose his leg.

When Greg had gotten out of surgery, he was in more pain than ever, but he refused an amputation. Dr. Cuddy had told Stacy about a third option, some middle ground, but Stacy knew Greg wasn't big on middle ground, so she had dismissed the possibility. She hated seeing him in so much pain, knowing there wasn't anything that she could do to relieve it. All she could do was sit by his bed side and remind him that she was there for him.

That night, Greg went into cardiac arrest. Dr. Cuddy had told her House had technically been dead for a minute. And although Stacy wasn't scared of death, the thought of losing Greg terrified her. As soon as the doctors had stabilized him, Stacy had taken up residency next to his bed and didn't move for the longest time. She would stroke his arm, hold his hand and tell him how much she loved him and wished that things would soon improve with his condition.

But as the pain became even more unbearable, Greg had asked to be put into a chemically induced coma, so he could sleep through the worst part. It was then that Stacy made the decision that would change her life and Greg's forever.

As Greg's medical proxy, Stacy decided Greg should undergo the 'middle ground' surgery to remove the necrotic tissue. There was a chance he would be in pain for the rest of his life. But the surgery would also save his life and his leg, even though it meant risking their relationship. She knew Greg would possibly hate her for doing this. He was a proud man and if she undermined his judgment and overruled his decision, she would break his trust. But she'd rather live with the fact that he was still alive and hating her, than with him dead.

***

Lisa Cuddy was in the room with them when House awoke from his coma. It had taken two excruciatingly long days for House to come out of it, but Lisa had insisted they wait that long to be sure everything was okay. The surgery had gone well and the doctors had been able to remove all of the dead muscle tissue, but the infarction had caused permanent nerve damage and the operation had left a 4 inch scar where his thigh muscle used to be.

Stacy was holding Greg's hand, slowly stroking his arm when she saw him open his eyes. "Greg? Hey." She smiled at him and hoped he would be able to answer her.

His voice was hoarse and his mouth was dry, so the spoken 'hi' was almost inaudible. It didn't take him long to notice that his leg felt different and Greg soon started asking questions about the second surgery. 'Had he gone into cardiac arrest again?' 'What had been done exactly?'

Cuddy knew Greg very well and she knew that the decision Stacy had made, had possibly damaged their relationship beyond repair. She was willing to help out her friend. So, when Greg had started asking question about his surgery, Cuddy had focused on the facts. The surgery had been necessary in order to save his life and he would be able to get some use of his leg back with intense physical therapy. But she never said who ordered the surgery, even though Greg kept pressing her.

After a while, Stacy couldn't take it any longer and she cut in, saying it had been her and her alone that had ordered the surgery.

The room fell silent. Cuddy moved over to the bed and took House's hand. "She made the right call." She squeezed his hand and gave him a weak smile before leaving the room and giving the couple their space.

Stacy couldn't tell what House was feeling. Was he upset? Angry? Mad? So, she cautiously asked him if he was okay. "Of course I'm not okay! Part of my thigh muscle has been removed and it hurts like hell! I'll be lucky to ever get the use of my leg back."

"I'm sorry." She apologized, although she was only partially sorry. She knew she had made the right decision, but seeing him like this made her question that notion.

"Why did you do it, when you knew I didn't want it?" Greg's tone had changed and Stacy soon realised the pain was too severe and it made him give in, succumbing to the reality that he didn't have the strength to put up a fight with her. But he wanted to know. He needed to know.

"You had already had a heart attack. And you were in so much pain. Lisa told me this was the only way we could save your life and your leg."

"But I told you I didn't want the surgery."

"I know, but you weren't thinking straight. And you know it. You were in so much pain, it was clouding your judgment."

"I knew what I was doing!" His voice was louder now.

"You were risking your life trying to save that damn leg!" Stacy was getting frustrated with him. How could he possibly think that his leg is more important than his life and expect her to feel the same way?

"It's my leg, it was my decision!"

"You made the wrong one."

"And since when did you become a doctor, huh? You had no right to overrule me."

"Actually, I had every right, legally, since you were in a coma and you couldn't make any decision yourself."

"Damn it, Stacy!" The frustration was clearly audible in his voice, because Greg knew she was right. She was his medical proxy, after all. But he had suggested the medically induced coma himself.

Greg turned his face away from her and Stacy withdrew. "I'm gonna get some water. I'll be back later." She left the room and closed the glass door behind her. And then she cried. Stacy hadn't cried much since it happened, mainly because she wasn't one to cry easily, but also because she felt she had to stay strong for Greg. But things had gone so damn wrong and now he hated her on top of all the rest he was dealing with. So, she cried, afraid that this decision might have been the right one for Greg, but the wrong one for their relationship.

***

In the days following the surgery, it became clear that the pain Greg was in was not diminishing in the slightest. As soon as the doctors had tried to lower the dose of morphine, Greg had yelled out in pain, trying to convince the doctors to up the dose again. Cuddy decided House should be on a different kind of medication, because of the addictive nature of Morphine. So, House was put on Percodan, but that didn't relief the pain enough, so Cuddy finally settled on Vicodin, knowing the drug might still be addictive, but at least it helped House with managing the pain through normal dosage.

Stacy was by his side every day. The first few nights after Greg had woken up from his coma, she had spent her nights at the hospital and Greg had started to notice the bags under her eyes. And while he was still very mad at her, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew she had done it just to save his life. She had done it because she loved him. But could he really ever trust her again?

"You should go home and get some rest." Greg suggested. Stacy looked up from the chair she had been sitting in, realizing she had fallen asleep.

"No, I'm okay." No matter how mad he may have been with her, she wasn't going anywhere.

"Stacy, you look like hell. You haven't slept in days." His tone was soft and gentle. "I'll be fine." He looked at her with worry on his face. She really did look like hell. Stacy got up and sat on the bed.

"Are you sure?" She took his hand and stroked the back of it.

"I'll be fine. I've got Cuddy and every other doctor in this hospital looking after me."

"Okay," she finally relented. "I'll be back in the morning." She leaned down and gave him a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Greg squeezed her hand a little.

Stacy felt some hope. Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed, after all.


	2. Late August, early September, 1999

Chapter 2

The first few nights back at home had been horrible for both Greg and Stacy. Every night, Greg would wake up in a cold sweat, trying hard not to cry out. His breathing would become shallow and he would start shaking uncontrollably. But before she could do anything, Greg would be out of bed and into his wheelchair, making his way over to the living room. He didn't want her to see him like this, that much she knew, but she couldn't understand why he didn't want her help. They were in this together, after all. Or at least, so she thought. But Stacy knew better than to force herself on him, so she tried to let him be.

However, a week had gone by and Stacy couldn't take it anymore. Greg had woken up again in the middle of the night and had gone into the living room. All the lights were off when Stacy made her way over to where Greg was sitting on the couch. He was slumped forward with his head in his hands. He didn't move when she sat down next to him. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but none of them seem relevant now. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know how. So, she waited.

***

Greg felt Stacy beside him, but he didn't move. He couldn't. Every now and then he would feel a tear slide down his cheek. He couldn't do this. He couldn't handle the pain and the lack of sleep was getting to him. He needed comfort, he needed to feel human again, he needed to feel alive again. But how could he ever? He couldn't even forgive the one person he loved more than anything, because she had betrayed his trust. But here she was, wasn't she? And he longed for her, but he had rebuilt the wall around his heart the moment he realized what she had done. That same wall she had so easily taken down.

"I can't do this." Greg wiped away some tears from his cheeks, but didn't look at her.

"Greg…" Stacy still had no clue as to what to say.

"It hurts, so much." Was he talking about the pain or about them?

"It needs time to heal."

"I'm a goddamned cripple. That won't change!" He finally looked at her and Stacy was shocked to see his red eyes and even more shocked about the wetness around them. Had he been crying? This was even worse than she had imagined. "The pain won't just go away. This is what my life will look like from now on." He looked away from her.

In the darkness, sounds were even more audible and the desperation was evident in his voice. This was it. These were his fears.

"Tell me what you want me to do." Stacy still couldn't think of what it was one would want in this type of situation. Greg was silent.

"I don't know." Clearly, Greg didn't know either, but he did look up at her again, the fear even visible in the dark. It made Stacy reach out for his hand.

"I'm here for you, if you need me." She hoped that in the darkness, Greg wouldn't notice that she was crying now, too.

When Greg didn't make a move, Stacy smiled weakly at him and got up, leaving him on the couch in the dark.

Greg wanted to hug her, touch her, connect with her, but he felt paralyzed. This had been a step in the right direction, but that didn't mean it was easy.

After Stacy left for bed, Greg remained on the couch, lost in thought. When he climbed back into bed a little while later, Stacy was fast asleep. Under the covers, he reached for her hand and softly caressed her palm. He stared at her for the longest time, thinking of how things were before and how they were now and how he would want them to be in the future.

Stacy never noticed a thing.

***

"The therapist explained to me how I should massage the muscle. I can try, if you like." Stacy felt like they were back at the beginning of the relationship, testing the waters, see what the other person likes and dislikes, loves and hates. She was still unsure of how much she should get involved with anything having to do with treating Greg's leg. Even when she had asked him a few nights ago what it was that he wanted her to do, he had been unable to answer her. Greg had allowed her to help him in the tub and into his wheelchair, but she knew he hated having to need help. Although he would never admit it, needing help made him feel less of a man.

But she could tell when he was in a lot of pain. And she wanted to make it go away. Greg's physiotherapist had explained to her how to massage the muscle and relief some of the pain, in case it became too much. At first, Stacy had refrained from offering, knowing Greg would not want her near the scar, but House had been in bed all day and he looked exhausted. This could only be a result from not being able to sleep because of the pain and of course the pain itself drained every last bit of energy he had left, like a leaking faucet.

Stacy was standing in the doorway of their bedroom, watching Greg. The look on his face told her exactly in how much pain he was and she knew she had to do something. Forget guilt, forget pride, he needed her help and she was offering it. He looked up at her and didn't say anything, so Stacy went over and sat down on the bed. Her heart ached for him. It hurt her so much to see him like this. She put her hand up to his face and looked at him. "Do you want me to massage the leg?" she asked tentatively. Greg didn't say a word, but instead he simply nodded.

Stacy's heart started racing. It was one thing to offer him her help, it was another to have him accept it. Stacy tried hard not to let her nervousness show. She smiled weakly,"okay."

The bandages had come off two days ago, and Greg had done a fine job of keeping Stacy from seeing the scar, because he had been able to change the bandages himself. And so, when Stacy removed Greg's pyjama pants, she was shocked to see the wound. While it had closed up, it was clearly visible part of the muscle was gone. It had left a big gap in his leg and she could only image the pain he had to be feeling.

"God, Greg… " her voice trailed off. "I'm so sor…"

"Forget it." Greg cut in. "Just…" He didn't finish the sentence, but Stacy knew what he meant, so she gently began to move her hands over his thigh. Greg flinched at the contact, but he soon relaxed beneath her touch.

This was big. The intimacy this involved was beyond anything they had ever experienced before. And it was hardly sexual. Greg had put his trust in her again and it felt like a weight had fallen from her shoulders. When she looked up at Greg, she saw he had closed his eyes and the contorted look on his face was gone a little.

After a while, Stacy's hands were starting to hurt, and she asked Greg if he was alright. It was the first anybody had said anything since she had started the massage. Greg slowly opened his eyes and for the first time in a long time looked at her again. "Thank you," was all he said, with gratitude clearly visible in his expression. He motioned for her to lean down a bit and then he kissed her. He held her face with both hands and made sure she knew just how grateful he was. Stacy nearly cried. Greg hadn't kissed her since he was first released from the hospital, nearly 2 weeks ago.

***

Feeling Stacy's lips on his again felt wonderful and for a moment he even forgot about the pain, mainly because the pain was reduced to just a tiny bit of what it usually was. Her hair encapsulated his face and her scent made him slightly dizzy. Just what he needed. He needed to lose himself in her again. But then he felt her withdrawing. He still held her face when he noticed she was fighting the tears.

"Anytime." She smiled faintly at him and felt a tear slid down her cheek. "I'll be right back," she excused herself.

Greg fell back against the pillows, feeling guilty, but also feeling rejected. Here he was opening up a little part of him that had been closed down for weeks, and Stacy couldn't handle it. How were they ever supposed to go back to normal again?

***

Stacy grabbed her purse and headed for the front door. She needed a cigarette. The emotions were a bit overwhelming as Stacy tried to remember what had just happened. She felt relief as well as hope again. He had let her in. For the first time since the surgery, he had trusted her again and he had been grateful to her. Hell, he had even kissed her. He hadn't even done that in the last few weeks. She took a final draw and dropped the butt to the ground and put it out with her shoe. She made sure she took a breath mint, before heading back inside.

She found Greg on the couch, still in his pjs.

"Hey," she said tentatively. "How's your leg?"

"Not as painful as before, thanks to you." He looked up to her and smiled a little. "Come here." He motioned for her to sit next to him. "I was thinking maybe you could do it more often." Stacy was a bit confused, but glad that Greg didn't ask why she had gone outside.

"Do what? Massage your leg?" Did he really want her to?

"Yes. It helped."

"I'm glad." She really was relieved.

"It also felt good to have you touch me again." Apparently, it had been sexual, at least a little. House wanted to see her reaction, so he never moved his eyes from her. The surprise he found there made him smirk.

"God, Greg. I'll massage your leg as often as you want. All you have to do is ask. You know that."

"I do."

"Because I like touching you and knowing I can relief even a little bit of the pain is just…" Greg didn't let her finish the sentence. He just kissed her again.

***

Greg buried his hands in her hair and slowly slipped his tongue into her mouth. The words he had just spoken were true, but they also served a purpose. Stacy felt guilty and if she did, she would do anything to make him feel better. And he knew just the thing.

He kissed her fiercely. God, had he missed the feel of her. He knew things had changed between them, and Greg also knew there was a chance they might never be able to get to the way things were before, but he still loved her. He still needed her, maybe now more than ever before. But Stacy had betrayed him. And as much as he had tried, Greg still hadn't forgiven her. Though that didn't mean he didn't love her.

The built up frustration had started to make him feel some resentment towards Stacy. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't stop himself either. He wanted her to feel like she had made him feel: powerless.

Greg eased Stacy to her knees while he remained on the couch and slid off his pyjama bottoms and his boxers. Without hesitation, Stacy wrapped her fingers around him and took him in her mouth. The warmth enclosing his penis sent a chill up his spine and Greg eased into the couch some more, giving her more space between his legs.

Greg was a little distracted by the little shots of pain coursing through his body, but the moment Stacy put her lips around him, they were gone, and all he could feel was himself hardening as Stacy's fingers circled his shaft and her tongue teased the tip of his cock.

***

Stacy knew what Greg wanted the moment he pushed her shoulders down. He needed to be in control and she completely understood that. So, instead of fighting it, she would give him what he wanted. This was also a test to see if she really felt guilty and would be willing to do whatever it took to make it up to him.

Greg would sometimes get very domineering when it came to sex, and Stacy found this to be a huge turn-on. In that respect, this was no different. And she knew what he liked, too. She was surprised, however, when Greg slid his hands in her hair and started to move her head faster. He'd only ever done that once and it had been too uncomfortable for her, due to his size, that she had asked him not to do that again. And he hadn't, but things had changed now. Greg needed to see how far he could push her, show her that he held no regard for her wishes and that he was the one in control. He wanted to make her feel the way she had made him feel when she decided he should undergo the surgery. Albeit this hardly having the same lasting effect.

Stacy didn't protest and went along with it, knowing Greg was very close to climaxing. His change in breathing always gave him away.

Greg came hard. And she kept sucking at him until he was done. When she looked up, relief coursed through her body. Greg was smiling at her, with a glint in his eye. Clearly, she had passed the test. But Stacy hadn't climbed back up the couch yet, or Greg let out a scream of pain. At first, Stacy thought that maybe she had bumped into his leg or something, but she was nowhere near it. Greg hunched forward, grabbing hold of his leg and trying very hard not to yell.

"Damn it!" Greg punched his fist down on the couch, his eyes shut tight.

During that moment, Stacy didn't know what to do. Should she put her arm around him? Tell him it will be okay? All those options seemed pointless. When you're in so much pain, the last thing you want is for somebody to touch you. It's hard enough to focus on yourself. And you definitely don't want anybody to tell you it will be alright, because for a minute, you think the world is going to end and you will never feel anything else again. So, Stacy went into the bedroom and grabbed Greg's prescription off his night stand and went into the kitchen for some water.

When she returned to the living room, Greg was lying down on the couch. She handed him his pills and the water, but Greg couldn't even muster a 'thank you'.

After a few moments, the pain subsided and Greg's breathing returned to normal. Stacy just watched him. "Is there anything I can do?" she asked softly, but there was no answer. "I'm gonna go for a walk". The moment the words left her lips, she knew how insensitive that sounded. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" God, this was frustrating.

"Just go." Greg had his arm over his eyes and never looked up at her.

For the second time that day, Stacy grabbed her purse and left the house. Maybe things would be easier once she would return to work. It was Thursday now and on Monday she would head back to the office.

* * *

To be continued...


	3. September, 1999

**Author's Note: **I added a time frame to the chapter titles, because I know some of you were wondering about it. Other than that, just a big THANK YOU to my beta!

I still don't own anything.

* * *

Stacy was rummaging through a stack of paperwork, trying to make some order out of the mess that had started to pile up on her desk. Returning to work had been tough on her. It meant she had to leave Greg behind. And even though he was doing okay with his rehabilitation, she still felt guilty over the fact that she caused this. She wanted to take care of him, since it seemed that was the only way she could somehow make it up to him. And she knew it was ridiculous. The resentment she figured he felt toward her now wouldn't diminish in the slightest by her nursing him back to health. He would never be pain free again and she was in part responsible for that. How does anyone get past that?

Being around each other all day wasn't helping either. She would try to say the right things, but Greg would completely shut her out at times. She had seen this behavior in him before, right when they had first started dating. She often wondered if it was hard for him to be happy. It had taken her a while to get him to open up to her, but once she had realized how big of an impact his father's abuse had had on him, she understood his reluctance to put trust in people and in their good intentions. But it made her sad at the same time. She wanted him to be happy, but there was always a part of him that he kept to himself. And now he had a reason to be miserable.

It had only been a few weeks since it had happened. They were bound to go through a rough time. She just hoped it would not last much longer.

A Christmas card fell from the stack and she reached down to pick it up. The photo reminded her of what was written on the back and she turned it over to read the words again. "I'm sorry for having to miss Christmas eve. I'll make it up to you. I love you. Greg." Work had once again spoiled her plans for them and she remembered the fight that had followed. It had led to Greg spending a few nights on the couch, until one night. Greg had come home early, knowing she would be home. He had taken her out to her favorite restaurant in New York and he had booked a hotel room at the Ritz, which they didn't leave for a day.

She could still hear the words he had spoken to her then: "I always wanna be with you." Neither of them cared much for marriage, so hearing him say it came as close as him proposing to her. And she felt the same.

She put the card in her purse. Maybe she could show it to Greg tonight. She needed to remind him what they once had together and this might just be the perfect way.

***

When Stacy got home that night, she found Greg on the couch with an open bottle of Scotch on the table and a half-empty glass in his hand. When she greeted him, he didn't say anything. He just looked up from the blank spot he had been staring at and acknowledged her presence with a faint smile. Her first instinct was to remind him about the combination of alcohol and medication, but she knew better than to state the obvious. Stacy wasn't sure how he was feeling, so as she sat next to him on the couch, she carefully inquired about his first day at home alone.

"Well, let see, this morning, James came by to take me to physio, then in the afternoon Cuddy stopped by to see how I was doing and I just got off the phone with my mother." House finished by taking another sip of his drink. The sarcasm was clear in his voice.

"They all wanna help."

"I don't need their goddamned help! I may be disabled, but I am still capable of looking after myself!"

"Greg, they care. James has called several times since it happened and he said you still hadn't returned his calls." Stacy tried to remain calm.

"They all treated me like I was a baby. Careful, or he might break. I don't need that."

"I'm sorry. They all offered to help, so I just thought that maybe…"

"Yeah, you're good at that, aren't you? Think for other people. Thinking you know what's best for me. I wonder when you became a psychic." Greg didn't even look at her.

"I'm not a psychic. But you won't talk to me. How am I supposed to know how you feel? I wanna help you, but I'm stabbing in the dark here."

"Well, maybe I don't want your help." He knew it wasn't true, but he said it anyway, just to spite her.

"Greg…" her voice trailed off.

"I would get up if I could. But I can't. So, I would appreciate it if you could leave me alone for a while." He took another swig of the glass and stared straight ahead.

Stunned by what had just transpired, Stacy grabbed her purse and headed out. Maybe James could tell her what had happened today.

She called James from the car, hoping that he didn't have any plans tonight. She knew he was dating somebody, but they had just started going out, so there was a chance he was home tonight. And he was. She told him about the last few days, the sleepless nights, the tension between them and the fact that House seemed to lock himself up, away from everybody and everything.

Apparently, James and Greg had spent some time talking this afternoon and James had noticed the level of frustration Greg was experiencing. It was only logical he would take it out on the person closest to him. James knew Greg very well; he knew he was a proud man and that Greg's reaction was sometimes extreme. And his pride had been trampled on. What man walked proud with a cane? James understood that Greg hated the fact that he needed help - with anything. His world had gotten a lot smaller and he needed time to adjust to his new surroundings.

All she needed to do was give Greg some time and some space to find his way around again and he would be fine. They both would be.

So, time and space. She could do that.

Stacy left James' apartment about an hour and a half later, making sure to stop by the gas station for cigarettes before heading home. The conversation with James really gave her some new perspective and she hoped Greg was still up, so she could talk to him.

When she got home, she made her way over to the bedroom. The light was on and Greg was flipping through a magazine.

"Hey," she said, because she wanted to get his attention. Greg put his magazine away and put his glasses on the nightstand, but he didn't say a word, so Stacy continued, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

"I'm sorry that Jim and Lisa were so annoying today. I should have asked you if you were okay with them visiting. I was just worried, because I didn't want to leave you here by yourself all day. But I should have talked to you first."

"Yeah, you should have." Clearly Greg was still angry.

"I told you I was sorry."

"But are you? Really?" His demeanor was unchanged.

"Of course I am. What makes you think I am not regretful?"

"I don't know. You just don't seem to have any trouble with the situation."

"What are you talking about? You think this is easy for me?" Where in the world did he get that idea from?

"Well, the way you go about your day is like nothing happened. You just walk…" He wasn't sure where he wanted to go with this.

"Greg, you can't blame me for being able to walk."

"No, but I _can_ blame you for _not_ being able to walk."

Not once had Greg said those words out loud, but she knew, deep down inside that he did blame her. And here he was confessing to just that.

"I had to make that decision. I saved your life."

"You don't know that."

"Your stubbornness nearly killed you!"

"And your selfishness messed up my leg for good."

"Selfishness? You think I did this for me?"

"Didn't you? You didn't want me to die. You didn't care that I had told you I didn't want the surgery. You just did what you wanted, with no regard for me or my wishes!"

"You're telling me you would rather be dead?"

"It beats living with this pain every goddamned day." And he meant it, even though he would never act on it. But there was a tremor in his voice, a fear of something.

"I can't believe it." Tears had started to form in Stacy's eyes. "I-I don't know what to say." She stared at him in disbelief.

Stacy never walked away from an argument and she wasn't going to start now, but she was at a loss for words. Greg didn't want to live? She knew him too well to be afraid that he might actually kill himself, because no matter how brave he seemed, he was too cowardly to do something that permanent. But this was bad. This meant he might be slipping into a depression. God knows, he may have been depressed even before the incident. It would explain much about his behavior and his everlasting battle with happiness.

"I'm sorry. About your leg, about using the proxy and going against your wishes. I am sorry." She was crying now. Greg was silent. After a few moments, Stacy got up and went to her side of the bed.

"I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

Just as she reached down to grab her pillow, she heard him say 'don't'. Startled, Stacy looked up at him, but he wasn't looking at her.

"God, I hate feeling like this!" His voice was raised again. "I wish the pain would go away and take this goddamned wheelchair with it!"

She figured it might be easier for him to vent without having to look at her.

"I know. I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say, her emotions running wild. She wanted to soothe him, and tell him it would all be fine. But she couldn't, because she wasn't even sure of that her and the last thing he needed right now were empty words.

"You don't know. You can never know." It wasn't an accusation. Just a statement of fact. He finally looked at her and held her gaze, wishing deep down inside that maybe she was a psychic and he wouldn't have to say anything to her, but she would still be able to read his mind and know that he didn't intend to be such an ass most of the time. And that maybe she would understand why he was so hard on her. But she couldn't read his mind. And he couldn't tell her.

When Greg didn't say anything, Stacy felt the need to fill the silence, which had become slightly uncomfortable. She reached for his hand and squeezed it a little. "I might never know. But I do hope you will be able to tell me one day." Time and space. She got up and went into the bathroom and finally broke down. She hated crying, but she just couldn't fight the tears anymore. By the time she climbed into bed, Greg had turned off his light and was breathing slowly, indicating he was asleep. As hard as she tried to forget what had happened and fall asleep, she was unsuccessful. This fight had been one of the worst they had ever had, and it seemed like there was more at stake now than ever before.

***

Neither one of them slept well that night. Stacy couldn't stop replaying that fight over and over in her head. She had learned so much last night. And none of which she liked. How could she fix this? She also woke up twice from Greg flipping the light on to take a pill. Twice in one night meant he was in a lot of pain.

As soon as the darkness disappeared and the light came in through the windows, Stacy got up to make some coffee. This was gonna be a long day. She heard Greg calling from the bedroom, and it alarmed her. He wouldn't call her unless it was really important, not wanting any help and all.

When Stacy reached Greg, he was moaning in pain. He was sitting up, trying to massage his thigh frantically. Although the wound had healed, it was still sore, even without the muscle damage.

"Greg, what's wrong?" She was immediately by his side.

"The pain… it hurts." He kept massaging. "I need my pills."

Stacy looked over to the night stand and saw that his prescription bottle was empty. Clearly, the pain had been bad all night.

"Okay. I'll go get some more." She grabbed the bottle and headed for the door. When she looked over her shoulder, the anguish that was visible on Greg's face broke her heart. She wanted nothing more than to take away all of his pain, but all she could do now was get him more pills. She hated it. She hated feeling useless.

When Stacy returned, she found Greg still in bed, with an arm over his eyes. She noticed he was trying to control his breathing, trying to breathe through the pain.

"How bad is it?" she asked. The pain was all-consuming and he didn't even reach for his pills until Stacy offered them with some water.

"It feels like someone is stabbing me in my leg, over and over and over again. I can't make it stop."

"You want me to massage the leg again?"

He nodded without looking up. "Yes."

"Okay, I'll be right back." Stacy came back with some massage oil and started her massage, carefully working around the wound, but trying to alleviate the tension in the thigh. She was still a little unsure, having massaged his leg only once before. But Greg let her. Apparently, she had done something right last time.

During the massage, Stacy noticed Greg's breathing began to slow. Either he was falling asleep, or the pain was subsiding.

"I'm sorry." Stacy was startled by his voice and looked at Greg. He clearly was wide awake and he was looking at her.

"For last night. I said some things I shouldn't have said."

"It's okay. You were having a bad day." Stacy felt relieved. "But Greg, don't you think you should go talk to someone? Like a psychiatrist? Or maybe a support group for people coping with disabilities."

"No." He let his head drop back down to the pillow again, arm covering his eyes. There was no way he was doing any of that. No way.

"Okay. But how about James? You haven't really seen him much lately. It might be good to spend some time with him…" She didn't want to push, but she hoped Greg would at least think about it.

"Maybe."

Stacy smiled. "All done. How is the pain now?"

"Better. Thank you."

"I'll call the physiotherapist and tell him you won't be in today, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"I'm off to work. Will it make a difference if I tell you to call me if you need me?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Just checking."

***

When Stacy got to her desk and unpacked her things, she saw the card she had put in there the day before. With a sigh she sat down, silently staring at the words. She didn't want to lose him and she was determined to do whatever it took.


	4. Mid to Late September 1999

Stacy watched the 8 o'clock news in horror. Apparently, a hurricane was passing over the state and so far, hundreds of people were rendered homeless due to flooding. She had noticed the weather had been really bad lately. Tonight she had to park just around the corner and was soaked through by the time she reached the apartment, eliciting a few laughs from Greg. It only added to her already sour mood.

God, she really hated September. Not only was her birthday next week, it also marked the second anniversary of her mother's death, who had died just two days after Stacy's birthday.

Stacy and her mom had always been close and when Stacy decided to leave the South and move away to college, it had been hard on both of them. She wasn't nearly as close with her two siblings, probably because they were both a lot younger than her and because they had a different father. Stacy had seen her mother struggle through some hard times; times when her mother would lean on her, even though she was far too young for that kind of responsibility. But it had made Stacy stronger and gave her a different look on life than her brother and sister. And she was okay with that. But one thing she knew for sure: having kids would never be a priority in her life.

In the early summer of 1997, Stacy's mother was diagnosed with stage 4 ovarian cancer. There wasn't anything the doctors could do and within three months, she was gone. Everything had happened so quickly and Stacy had gone back to Mississippi as soon as she had heard about it and was able to make arrangements to get some time off from work. Greg was swamped with work and had been unable to join her. She hated the idea of having to spend her birthday without Greg, but she had accepted that this was the way it was going to be this year. So, when Stacy saw him walk into her parent's house, she had been unable to contain her tears. Stacy always was the strong one, but only now did she realize how much she depended on Greg and seeing him here under these circumstances was just too much. Tears of joy and fear, for both him and her mom, streamed down her face as she had flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. She loved the way their bodies fit so well together and for a moment she had been able to forget why she was in Mississippi in the first place.

Greg had never gotten to see where Stacy grew up. They had never gotten around to planning a trip down there, although her mom and stepdad had visited Princeton a few times. So, on her birthday, after Stacy had lunch with her siblings, Greg asked if Stacy would show him around. They ended up at a little diner, just off the main road. When the waiter brought them their coffees, Greg had handed Stacy a black box. Stacy knew better than to expect a ring, but when she opened it, her mouth fell open.

"Where did you get this?" She was shocked.

"Your mom gave it to me. I just bought the chain for it."

Stacy carefully took out the golden crucifix and touched it gently, afraid that it might break. She remembered her mom always wearing it, telling her that Jesus was always with her, no matter how bad things got. As long as he could see, he would guide her. Stacy carefully took the cross and chain out.

"When did she give you this?"

"This morning, when you were in the shower. I went to see her and she took the necklace off and told me to give it to you. I bought the chain when you went out to lunch."

Stacy didn't know what to say. She was just overwhelmed. She knew her mom wasn't too fond of Greg. But her mom knew Stacy loved him and that was enough for her.

Greg took the necklace from her slightly trembling hands and got up to stand behind her. Stacy lifted her hair and Greg placed the necklace around her neck and fastened it. When he was done, he leaned down and placed a kiss on the still exposed part of her neck, whispering 'Happy Birthday' in her hear.

Stacy was crying again and Greg felt a little worried. He had never seen her like this. Stacy hardly ever cried. Through her tears, she had to laugh. "It seems like it's all I do these days."

Stacy was by her mother's bedside when her mother passed away, thankful that Greg had forced her to go in sit with her till the end. She never would have done that if it hadn't been for him and she was grateful for the final moments she shared with her mother. And grateful she could cry on his shoulder afterward.

"Stace." She was shaken from her reverie. "Where were you just now?" Greg was beside her in his wheelchair, jumping from the chair to the couch on his left foot. He'd gotten quite handy at it, lately.

"What? Oh, nowhere. I was just thinking about my mom." She smiled apologetically at him, fingering her crucifix. "I can't believe it's almost been two years."

"I know. Time sure went by fast."

"A lot has happened since then, too." She looked at him, the fear she felt when he was first admitted to the hospital returning for just the briefest of moments.

Greg lifted his arm, so Stacy could move into the crook of it.

"I wish things could go back to normal." She was silent for a moment. "I wish my mom were still alive. I wish you never had an infarction in your leg. I wish Bill Clinton had kept his pants on." All the while, Greg was stroking her arm, listening to what she was saying.

"You can't change the past." Always so matter-of-factly.

"I know." She conceded. "But that doesn't mean I wish I could sometimes." She looked up into his eyes, but Greg didn't say anything. The unspoken words hung between them. He wanted to ask her if she would have done anything differently, bur he didn't want to have that conversation again. Not tonight. And Stacy knew what he was thinking, knowing very well that he still hadn't forgiven her. So, changing the past wouldn't do anybody any good, because it probably wouldn't change a thing about their current situation. She still loved him more than she loved his leg. That much she knew. Therefore, the decision had been the right one.

Stacy stared at the coffee table, the sounds from the TV barely audible to her now. Stacy's voice was soft. "Do you think you can ever forgive me?" It wasn't an accusation.

Silence settled between them, but after a few moments, Greg finally spoke. "I don't know. I don't know how." She knew he was looking at her, but anger and despair rose inside of her. She tried to contain it.

"I do hope you figure it out, Greg." Stacy got up from the couch. "Because I don't know if I can do this." When Greg didn't say anything, Stacy picked up her purse from the table and left the house. She was happy to see the rain had stopped. She lit up a cigarette the moment she closed the door behind her. He didn't know how to forgive her. Was it really that hard? It had been nearly 6 weeks since it had happened. Obviously, he needed more time, but how much more time would she be able to give him?

Stacy took one last draw as she reached her car and threw the butt in a pool of rainwater. Menthols weren't doing it for her anymore. When this pack was finished, she would buy Lights. Maybe they would take the edge off. At least they would taste worse and she might actually feel the poison.

***

Greg remained on the couch. He had turned the TV off, too distracted to pay attention to it. He really did need to figure out how to forgive her. But how do you tell somebody it's okay what they did when you not only disagree, but you're reminded of the painful consequences on a daily basis? Did he still love her? Yes. No doubt about it. The sheer thought of her with another man brought out a jealousy he himself wasn't aware of he had in him. She was the only one who could see through his bullshit. He'd be crazy to let her go. But she was slipping away and he better do something before it was too late.

Physically, Greg was feeling better. Physio was helping and aside from the pain, he was doing okay. The therapist had even said that he would be able to ditch the wheelchair soon, too. This was all good news and Greg decided that he would try to move past this. He would try to forgive her. God knew how, but he would try.

An hour later, Stacy walked in the door again. "I'm going to bed." It was only 9.30, but he knew she had been in a bad mood all day. Without waiting for an answer, she made her way to their bedroom and closed the door. Greg heard the shower being turned on and 10 minutes later, it was turned off again. For a while, Greg was just listening to her moving around, doing her thing. He only now realized how used he had become to those familiar sounds.

Stacy was reading when Greg entered the bedroom. She didn't look up immediately, but when he didn't move, Stacy felt she had to. Greg just gave her a faint smile, but he wanted her to acknowledge his presence. He hated it when she would ignore him. It was probably worse than having a fight. Just when Greg was ready to climb into bed, Stacy turned her light off and turned her back to him, leaving him in the dark. Greg sighed. If his leg hadn't been messed up, he would have walked over to her side, hunched down in front of her and told her what he wanted to say, but that was not an option anymore. So, instead he got under the covers, wincing at the pain, when he had to lift his leg. He moved over to Stacy's side until he was pressed flush against her. He felt her body tense. She obviously hadn't expected this. He inhaled her scent, smelling the soap she had just used, mixed with shampoo and her almond body lotion. He would remember this scent forever, no matter what happened. He draped his arm over her body, finding her right hand.

Stacy felt his breath on her skin and his ever growing stubble on her shoulder.

"I'm gonna try." His voice was so soft.

Stacy tried to turn around and look at him, but the way their bodies were positioned, that proved to be impossible.

"Are you serious?"

"I am."

"Greg, I..."

"Shhh." He interrupted her. "Don't say anything." He kissed her shoulder and rolled back to his side, giving Stacy the room she needed to be able to look him in the eye.

"I love you." She had to say it. She needed him to know it. And she needed him to say it back.

"I love you, too." A sense of relief washed over her. At least he still loved her. Maybe there was still hope. She kissed him softly, before she moved back into her previous position, glad she didn't have to go to bed feeling angry.

***

When Stacy came home on Friday night, the house was dark. Fear shot through her. Why wasn't Greg here? Where was he? What had happened? She quickly took out her keys and opened the front door. She was greeted by the most wonderful smell, but in her distress, she hardly noticed it.

Greg emerged from the kitchen in his wheelchair. "Hey! How was your day?" he asked cheerfully. Stacy's mouth fell open. Before she knew it, Stacy swung her arm towards Greg's shoulder.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Don't ever scare me like that again!"

"What?" Greg had no idea what she meant. She slapped him again.

"Do you have any idea what went through my mind when I saw all the lights off? Jesus!" Her heart raced in her chest. Her eyes drifted toward the kitchen table and she realized why the lights had been off. On the table were two lit candles and it was set for two. A man dressed in a waiter's uniform also emerged from the kitchen.

"Good evening, ma'am. And may I wish you a Happy Birthday. If you would…" he motioned for her to go into the kitchen and take a seat. Stacy did as she was told and sat down, completely stunned. Greg rolled up next to her.

"Happy Birthday." He gave her a lingering kiss. "I couldn't make you dinner this year, so I thought I'd improvise. Jeeves here is one of the best chefs in town."

"If you will, sir." Jeeves moved to the side of the table and revealed the starter.

Stacy was overwhelmed.

"Greg… this is amazing." She was still pissed, but the feeling was quickly dissipating. Greg smiled proudly. He loved making her happy and apparently he succeeded. He just hoped she would like her present.

After their three-course meal was finished and Jeeves was sent home, Greg sat next to Stacy and placed two items on the table: an envelope and a jewelry box. Stacy didn't know what to think.

"I got you this a while ago." He moved the envelope towards her. "Before… Everything. And I wasn't sure if you still wanted it. But I thought I'd give it to you anyway. And just in case you don't want it, I got you this." He pointed to the jewelry box. "If you want them both, that's fine, too." Greg sat back, waiting in anticipation. He was a little nervous, not knowing how she would react.

Stacy opened the envelope and her mouth dropped when she saw the airline tickets and their destination: Paris. She had wanted to go to Paris ever since she was 16 and had seen An American in Paris. Over the years, the topic would come up and she would start making general plans, but nothing ever came of it. Three months ago, Greg had finally bought tickets. There was no date on it, but if they had the tickets, at least they would be more inclined to make some serious arrangements. Greg didn't care much for travel, but he had wanted to do this with her. And he knew she felt the same. That is also why he wasn't sure she still wanted them now. There was no way he was going to Paris any time soon.

"Greg, Paris? I can't believe you bought tickets to Paris! When are we going?" Her joy fazed him. How could he tell her now he wasn't going with her?

"Stacy." He desperately hoped she would understand. "I can't go to Paris with you."

"Why not?" She was surprised by his solemn tone.

"I just can't." He hated disappointing her. Seeing her face fall and knowing he caused it was horrific. He never should have given her the tickets. He should have just thrown them out weeks ago.

"We always talked about going together. I want to go with you."

"I know and I'm sorry, but I can't. You should be able to enjoy the city and you can't do that with a cripple holding you back."

"Greg. That's-"

"Walks along the Seine? Those are out. Climbing the Eiffel tower? Not exactly going to happen. Not to mention the pain I'd be in after 9 hours on a plane. Trust me, you don't want that." She knew he was only looking out for her, but she couldn't help but feel rejected. "Maybe one of your girlfriends would like to go. You can go shopping or whatever." She had to give him points for trying. He really did want her to go.

"I don't want to go with anybody but you." She took a deep breath and composed herself, hoping the disappointment wasn't too evident on her face. "I guess it's option number two then." She wanted to change the subject.

"I'm sorry, Stacy. This was a bad idea. I'm…" She put her hand on his.

"No, Greg. It was a wonderful idea. And thank you for giving me the opportunity to go. But I won't go without you." She tried to smile while at the same time holding back tears and keeping her bottom lip from quivering. "The jewelry box, please."

Greg could see the hurt in her eyes, on her face. The deep breaths she took to regain control of her emotions again. Feeling like a jerk, he gave her the black box.

When she opened it, her reaction was the same as all the other times he had given her jewelry.

"They're gorgeous." She took the pearl earrings out of the box and looked at them closely. "Thank you." She kissed him and tried to put on her happy face. Always the strong one. "You didn't have to do all this."

"Yeah, I did."

"Who's gonna do all these dishes?"

"Jeeves will be back in the morning."

"Poor Jeeves."

"Well, I wouldn't call him poor, exactly. Not with what he's charging." Greg smiled faintly at her. "But it was worth it."

"Is his name really Jeeves?"

"No. It's included in the price that you get to call him whatever you want."

"You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not."

"Why Jeeves, though?"

"I don't know. It just sounded servant-y."

"Well, he did his name justice."

Stacy tried to move Paris to the back of her mind. Tonight she would enjoy a night with Greg. It felt like a long time since they had really enjoyed each other's company. Exhausted as she was, this birthday had turned out to be a great one, after all.

***

Two days later, Greg surprised Stacy with breakfast in bed. She suspected Jeeves had returned again, because Greg's eggs were never this good. But it was very sweet of him to do this for her. Last year, on the anniversary of her mother's death, Stacy had stayed in her pyjamas all day, not wanting to see or talk to anyone. Greg hoped this wouldn't become a habit and so he had talked Jeeves into coming back for a breakfast serving. Actually, it was more a brunch serving. Either way, Greg had to do some serious persuading; ending in him having to pay Jeeves nearly double, because it was a Sunday and Jeeves didn't do breakfasts.

Stacy was pleasantly surprised by Greg's actions. He clearly had been serious when he had said he was going to try. They had ended up spending the entire day in bed together, talking and watching movies, eating the left-overs Jeeves had put in the refrigerator. It had felt like old times again, even though these past few weeks had been emotionally draining on Stacy. She was in a funk. There was no other word to describe it. She felt uneasy all of the time and was on the brink of crying whenever she saw a puppy on TV. This wasn't like her. The fact she and Greg hadn't had sex since he had been released from the hospital wasn't helping either. But then again, she hadn't been in the mood herself, too preoccupied with other things.

Things were looking up, but hopefully next week things would be even better.


End file.
